


Harvest Moon

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Pregnancy, Dreams and Nightmares, Farmer Hank Anderson, Husbands, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, Magical Realism, Post-Canon, Pumpkins, Retirement, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trans Male Pregnancy, Wishes, farmer connor, pregnant connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: It's Fall, 2040. Hank and Connor have retired to a farm in rural Michigan, where they grow vegetables and heal from their experiences. Connor's life is almost perfect, but there's one thing he wishes for on a shooting star. It's an impossible wish, but with a little magic, even the most unlikely of dreams can become reality.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	Harvest Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Babies, pregnancy, pregnant android Connor. No explicit details or words used about Connor's anatomy, but I think you can figure it out.
> 
> Notes: A bit of fall flavor and gentle things to provide an antidote to Current Events. I think the spirit of @honkforhankcon possessed me for a little while and compelled me to produce this Soft HankCon Magical Babies content. I hope you enjoy it! It's very gentle.

Hank sat in his rocking chair on the porch as Connor stared out at the harvest moon, full and orange in the sky. Connor listened to it creak as Hank rocked back and forth, dozing off to the sound of the cool fall breeze. He glanced over at the old man. A smirk crossed his face as Hank's expression relaxed. Connor was loath to wake him. Harvest season was coming to an end, and he hadn't had much sleep lately. Their little farm was a lot of work for the two of them, even though Connor was an android with tireless strength.

Connor didn't want it any other way.

They'd retreated to their own little world, far from the hustle and bustle of 2040s Detroit. They'd left the city behind, settling for a nice farm in rural Michigan. Hank could have provided for them both with his police pension, but there was a sense of purpose in creating something. Watering the crops. Watching them grow. Selling the produce at the local farmers' market.

Hank always seemed to know what Connor needed. Or perhaps they simply shared a goal now they'd come together. It was a far cry from those alcoholic, meandering, meaningless days waiting for death that Hank had spent alone after the loss of his son. He'd sacrificed years of his life to the void until Connor came along.

The ambient temperature dipped below comfortable levels for a human. Quietly, Connor pulled open the screen door and entered the farmhouse, coming back with a crocheted blanket. He spread it over Hank's lap, tucking it in at the edges. Hank stirred slightly, but quickly fell back into a snore.

Something caught Connor's eye. A light at the edge of his vision. He turned to see a shooting star screaming across the sky. It was getting closer and closer, until he calculated it was directly over their land. Something landed in the pumpkin patch, and Connor jumped off the porch, running through the fields at a pace no human could match. Connor glanced over his shoulder and saw Hank was oblivious to the ruckus, far away in some other world.

Connor wondered if he was dreaming of the little party he'd held for Connor's birthday just a few months ago. Hank, Connor, and Sumo around the farmhouse table. Another perfect memory he labeled as important and filed away in a secure storage partition once meant for crucial evidence.

_"Make a wish, Connor,"_ Hank whispered over the thirium birthday cake with a large "2" candle burning on top of it. Connor blew out the flame with air from his internal fans and silently hoped. Human rituals were nothing more than superstition, but Hank was full of them, patterns burned into his soul to soothe and carry him through hard times. Things his mother had taught him. Lessons his father had instilled in him from an early age. Connor craved the kind of wisdom that came with the years. Hank was overflowing with a lifetime of observations, data Connor coveted. He might have been installed with a program emulating a thirty-something male, but wisdom came from the act of living. Knowledge was only one part of the puzzle of life. The rest came from learned experience.

The lines in Hank's weathered face told a thousand tales of laughter and love. Sometimes, on nights when he felt like talking, Hank would tell him another story. Connor wished he could reach into his mind and extract all that beautiful raw data, but instead he experienced it at Hank's pace, which was at times maddeningly slow and at other times completely forward, keeping him on his toes.

Like their first kiss in front of Chicken Feed. Connor had still been trying to figure out what Hank meant to him, and what he meant to Hank. The hug was wonderful, but it could have been construed as familial.

The meeting of their lips was anything but. Connor had fought in a revolution and won the rights of his people, but that story paled in comparison to his first kiss, desperate and clumsy. Hank might have been a little drunk. Connor's algorithms were falling apart. It only made them more honest and forward in their desires.

Hank always blushed a little when Connor reminded him that their first sexual encounter had been in the back of the Oldsmobile, Connor tucked down in the footwell sucking Hank's soul out through his dick. He seemed almost apologetic about it sometimes, as if he'd seduced Connor at a difficult, complex, and confusing time in his life, but Connor was happy to recreate that encounter every chance he got. Hank was still as eager as the first time, keeping his eyes on Connor's mouth and face like he couldn't believe this was really happening to him. Connor felt the same way. He longed for every lesson Hank could teach him as his mentor and lover, and Hank treasured the _joie de vivre_ of youth that Connor represented, that throwback to a time when all the world was new and his spirit was not yet wounded by tragedy.

Together, they were whole. There was nothing else that could create a more perfect union, except for one thing. An impossible thing. A vessel of flesh and blood that might carry Hank's DNA and the sum of their life's lessons into the future. A child. Hank had lost that hope with Cole. He taught his life lessons to Connor, but it wasn't the same. They weren't father and son, but partners and husbands. Connor was unlikely to live much longer than Hank, with compatible replacement android components for his model growing harder to find each year. Connor could bask in Hank's spirit, but he couldn't expand upon it and pass it along to the next generation in any way that felt meaningful to him.

There were options, of course. Child androids. Adoption. Fostering. All of them held complications. Humans didn't want an android to foster or adopt their children, even now, and child androids faced the same lifespan problems Connor did. Hank couldn't face that heartbreak again. It was bad enough that Connor had to deal with the concept of his own mortality, but at least he'd had the luck of being a prototype, built with the highest quality components. Child androids were built to fall apart. They'd been created as substitutes and teaching tools to prepare people for the real thing, and nothing more.

Connor thought about the shooting star and what it might mean. Part of him was compelled to wake Hank, but another, larger part of him wanted to be the first one to experience this find so he could have a story of his own to tell later on. Hank would have said it was a wish granted, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but Connor was more inclined to believe it was nothing more than a fascinating space rock, one his scanners would enjoy breaking down into component parts.

He darted into the pumpkin patch. Any day now he'd be plucking these huge gourds, hauling them onto the pickup truck to take to market. He'd lovingly watered and fed them, and his prize pumpkin was the biggest Hank had ever seen. Or so he said. There was no way to verify the subjective nature of Hank's claims, but Connor was flattered by them nonetheless. He'd been created to take life, and he'd defied the odds to create it. Nourishing a species who at times challenged his patience. Who still caused his thirium pump to constrict upon occasion when some crackpot on television stubbornly claimed deviants weren't living beings.

Hank said that made him a good person. Connor wasn't so sure, but he knew he didn't want to answer hatred with hatred. CyberLife had created him to kill his own kind, and while he'd killed humans to save androids, he never wanted to point a gun at anyone again. Those days were over. He was a farmer, now, nurturing the crops under Hank's watchful eye. Stripping down in the summer heat as those blue eyes roved over his gel skin. Making love in the dark and wishing Hank could put a baby in him.

Some things weren't meant to be, even if he wished them over a birthday cake and on the backs of shooting stars.

He paused in front of his prize pumpkin, which was now a ruined shell of exploded orange flesh and pumpkin seeds. The meteor had hit it dead on. So much for it being displayed at the county fair. He'd preconstructed winning a ribbon a dozen times over, proud of his handiwork. The first deviant android to win a prize in the fair's history. He blinked away tears. Hank would be disappointed for him. He'd find solace in his arms later tonight, at least.

The last vestiges of light died on the horizon, leaving Connor with only his night vision to see by. There was a tiny figure in the remnants of the pumpkin. Connor reached in and picked up a warm creature covered in pumpkin mush. He held it up, his mouth falling open.

A baby. But how? Babies didn't fall out of the sky. Nor did they grow in prize pumpkins. He looked around for some sign of where it might have emerged from, but there was nothing else. No meteor to show anything had landed here at all.

The child started to cry. Connor took off his sweatshirt and swaddled the baby in it. This had to be a dream, didn't it? He'd emerge from stasis with yearning in his chest, his prize pumpkin and Hank's knowing embrace his only solace.

"Connor?" Connor turned around to see Hank standing with Sumo at his heel. "Thank God you're all right. Where did you go running off to in the middle of the—" The child wailed, cutting him off. "Is that a _baby_?" Hank's eyes glistened in the low blue light thrown off by Connor's LED.

"There was a shooting star. I followed it. I thought about the wish I made when I blew out my birthday candles, and when I got here, this baby was lying in the remains of my prize pumpkin." The story sounded absurd to him, even as he recounted it.

Hank started to laugh. He took the baby from Connor, a warm smile growing on his face like the first rays of dawn. His front teeth were showing as he offered the child a thick finger. The baby's tiny hands clutched it. He tore his gaze away to stare at Connor.

"Is this what you wished for? A child?"

Connor stared down at the ground. "You're getting older, and my components won't last forever. The fruits and vegetables we grow wither and die, and my journal-keeping skills are dry at best. I wanted to leave something behind in this life when we're gone. Someone to carry our stories along to the future. Some evidence that we were here, Hank, that we lived and loved."

"We can do that without a baby." Hank's expression seemed to darken. Clouds covered the moon, plunging them into near-total darkness where the sound of Hank's breathing and his own dim blue light was the only thing reminding Connor that he wasn't asleep. "There are other ways to leave your mark on the world. I'd argue that you already have. You are the reason androids are free. That's more than most humans achieve in a lifetime."

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered. "I always wanted your child. I know that after Cole it was too much to even consider, but—"

"That's better."

"What?" Connor asked. The moon came out from behind the clouds again, illuminating Hank's soft smile. "I don't understand."

"You shouldn't have children because it's what humans do, or because you want to pass somethin' along, or whatever weird shit's going through your mind. A child's a commitment. You have to really want that. To dedicate your whole life to someone else's needs. To love them more than you love your own life, or even me. There's the matter of you, too. You'll be raisin' a kid that's human. You won't always be able to relate to what they're going through. It'll be tough."

"I know," Connor said. "I know all that. I really want this baby, Hank. Your baby. Our baby." He reached out and took the baby back from Hank. "Not that it matters. None of this is real. You're not Hank, and this is just a dream. After I placed the blanket over Hank, I went into stasis on the porch. Babies don't come from the pumpkin patch."

"Don't be so sure, kid. Truth is often stranger than fiction." Hank reached out and ruffled Connor's hair, and disappeared.

Connor emerged from stasis on the porch, the taste of disappointment more bitter than thirium on his tongue. Hank was awake in the rocking chair, staring at him. "You all right, Connor?"

Connor started to cry. Hank's brow furrowed in seeming concern and he sat up. Connor went to him, sitting on his lap as Hank rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"I was in stasis and I had a dream," Connor explained. "I dreamt I found a baby in the remnants of my prize pumpkin."

"Huh." Connor turned to read Hank's expression. "Must be gettin' ready for the big day." He pulled up Connor's shirt, revealing a huge baby bump. Of course. Connor was due any day. He'd been surprised and over the moon when he'd gone for routine maintenance to find he'd been installed with a prototype 'black box' feature nobody knew about. He could do something no other android could, and he was the envy of the whole android world. Hank, for his part, seemed proud he'd knocked Connor up, but Connor sensed a fierce protectiveness every time Hank looked at him. He was as grateful for this second chance as Connor was grateful to have a chance at all.

His memory glitched. How was that possible? He'd been working the farm. Hank wouldn't have let him do that in his condition. He stood up, walking to the edge of the porch. He needed evidence. Something concrete to prove this wasn't some kind of dream-inside-a-dream taunting him only to leave him empty-handed.

"Connor, where are you goin'? It's dark," Hank called after him.

"There's something I have to see," Connor said. "Don't worry, I'll take Sumo."

"I'm comin' too," Hank insisted. He followed Connor and Sumo down into the fields, past the corn and into the pumpkin patch. Connor paused before the remnants of his prize pumpkin. The seeds were spilled just like in his dream, the flesh exploded outward like it had been hit by a meteor. Had it been a dream, or…?

"Damn," Hank muttered. "Fuckin' bear must have gotten to it. I'm sorry, Connor."

"It's all right, Hank," Connor said, placing his hand over his bump. The baby kicked. Connor closed his eyes. "I bet the truth is even stranger than that." He turned and folded himself into Hank's waiting embrace, Sumo sitting beside them.

Connor gazed up at the sky and thanked his lucky stars.


End file.
